Naturally a shoot springing in a dry ground would show but little
beauty of foliage or flower. It would be starved and colourless beside
the gaudy growths in fertile, well-watered gardens. But that
unattractiveness is not absolute or real; it is only 'that _we_ should
desire Him.' We are but poor judges of true 'form or comeliness,' and
what is lustrous with perfect beauty in God's eyes may be, and
generally is, plain and dowdy in men's. Our tastes are debased.
Flaunting vulgarities and self-assertive ugliness captivate vulgar
eyes, to which the serene beauties of mere goodness seem insipid.
Cockatoos charm savages to whom the iridescent neck of a dove has no
charms. Surely this part of the description fits Jesus as it does no
other. The entire absence of outward show, or of all that pleases the
spoiled tastes of sinful men, need not be dwelt on. No doubt the world
has slowly come to recognise in Him the moral ideal, a perfect man, but
He has been educating it for nineteen hundred years to get it up to
that point, and the educational process is very far from complete. The
real desire of most men is for something much more pungent and dashing
than Jesus' meek wisdom and stainless purity, which breed in them ennui
rather than longing. 'Not this man but Barabbas,' was the approximate
realisation of the Jewish ideal then; not this man but--some type or
other of a less oppressive perfection, and that calls for less effort
to imitate it, is the world's real cry still. Pilate's scornfully
wondering question: Art _Thou_--such a poor-looking creature--the King
of the Jews? is very much of a piece with the world's question still:
Art Thou the perfect instance of manhood? Art Thou the highest
revelation of God?